The Story Stone
by Leahna
Summary: The third entry in my version of the 4th season.  It takes place immediately following "Late Night Coffee"
1. Chapter 1

The Story Stone

By Leahna

The verdant green jungle canopy allowed only an occasional, brief glimpse of the late afternoon sky; while far below, lush, dark undergrowth hampered the progress of the two explorers who pressed diligently forward. A heavy swarm of flies did nothing to improve Marguerite Krux's disposition. She swatted at them continually and ineffectually while following Lord John Roxton as he hacked with his machete at the vines and leaves hiding the over-grown trail. "I don't know how I let you and Malone talk me into hiking half-way across the plateau just to decipher what may or may not be written on some bloody, old rock," she grumbled. The enigmatic adventuress dragged a heavy lock of her curly, dark hair off her face as she avoided a low hanging branch.

"If Malone's right," the tall, broad shouldered hunter replied patiently, "it is much more than an 'old rock'." He ducked a branch, then held another aside to allow his beautiful companion to pass.

"If he's right. And if he's wrong, it's just a long, miserable hike." She smashed a fly unlucky enough to have landed on her neck. "This better be worth it," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the mess on her palm, rubbed it clean, then couldn't hold back a smile as she passed by Roxton.

Until recently, Marguerite had grabbed at any chance no matter how farfetched to escape the South American Plateau and return to London; but time and dead ends had nearly destroyed her earlier zeal.

Deepening shadows were quickly bringing an end to the third day of their journey.

The two explorers were following a map drawn by Ned Malone. The reporter had recently returned from a long, self imposed exile during which he had stumbled across a large, heavily inscribed stone. He recognized a few of the symbols, so he'd copied down a portion of it to share with Marguerite in hopes that she could read the entire text. For, from the symbols he understood, assuming he had translated them correctly, Malone was sure that this stone was a key to an escape route from the plateau. When Marguerite read through the little passage he'd copied, she saw in it the possibility of finally returning to civilization, so it took very little convincing from her favourite hunter before the two of them were on their increasingly difficult trek to find the ancient stone.

"Has the trip really been that bad?" Roxton asked. "I thought it rather nice spending time alone together."

She turned back to him with a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue which she never voiced. His engaging smile and the suggestive raising of his eyebrows changed her remark to, "Well, there is that."

"No interruptions."

Her burgeoning smile turned into a wry frown. "A lot of good that does us," she complained, "You've been pushing so hard that by the time we make camp, we are too tired to even eat. She began to mutter under her breath, "we might as well have Malone bursting in on us, at least at the tree house I could be sleeping in my own bed rather than on the ground." Marguerite continued her quiet complaint to Roxton's back as he again took the lead and they continued their hike. "Or reading a book and sipping coffee, or even lulled to sleep listening to one of Challenger's endless lectures."

Roxton rubbed his weary arm as he put his machete back into use. His fingers were numb and each blow reverberated down his back and into his legs. Her incessant grumbling was wearing him down and he was close to snapping at her. Rather than admit to physical and mental exhaustion, he said over his shoulder, "we're nearly there, I don't think an early night will be too great a delay. We can camp at the next clearing." He turned to her with a crooked smile, "If that meets your approval." His smile broadened, losing it's sarcastic edge as she drew nearer.

She stopped inches from him; the tips of her heavy boots almost touching his. She raised up onto her toes, her lips close to his cheek. To his chagrin, rather than brush his cheek with those soft, pink lips, she whispered in his ear, "then we'd best keep moving."

"Right," he replied brusquely to hide his disappointment and turned back to the trail.

. Before he could resume hacking out a trail, Marguerite took hold of his uplifted arm.

She smiled and gave his stubbled cheek a quick kiss, her eyes sparkling with promise.

He returned her smile and nodded at her. "Keep moving it is," He had been pushing hard he admitted to himself, probably too hard, and his motives were entirely selfish. He didn't believe that this stone they headed for could help them get off the plateau, and truth be told, he didn't care if it did or not. Everything he wanted was right here. However, this trek offered the chance to be alone with Marguerite and they did need time alone. It seemed that every time they tried to get away to talk, work things out and just enjoy being together, something always interrupted.

For this trip Malone, being proud and a bit proprietary about his discovery, had wanted to accompany them. Roxton was glad that Ned had returned to their little family, he really was, but he'd had so little time alone with Marguerite since she'd admitted her true feelings and he was worried that she would pull away again. So, yes, he had been pushing; hastening their walk to dissuade the enthusiastic Mr. Malone from following and in so doing, he was sabotaging the trip all on his own.

Roxton pricked up his ears. Someone or something was following them and it definitely was not Malone. He continued walking, not changing his pace. The handsome hunter turned his head surreptitiously to his companion and put his finger to his lips. He inclined his head to disclose the direction of the intruders. As they walked, Roxton ran a expert eye over the area looking for a defendable position to make their stand if it became necessary. There was nothing. He exchanged his machete for his rifle. Following his lead, the lovely brunette was already removing her pistol from its holster. "What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low, "raptors?"

"More likely a hunting party," he responded quietly. "If we're lucky, they'll pass us by."

She still didn't detect anything but, trusting her hunter completely, she kept a chary eye on the surrounding brush. The muted snap of a twig confirmed Roxton's conviction

That they were being followed. "John…?" the heiress started.

"Not so lucky this time," He muttered then yelled, "Marguerite, Run!"

She did not spare time for a look back, but started to sprint immediately. A dart whizzed past her ear so close that it moved the unruly strands of her dark hair. She had no doubt that the dart was poisoned. Roxton waited for her to pass and fell in directly behind her. Something heavy slammed against his back and dragged him to the ground. As he hit, his rifle was jolted from his hands and skidded away.

Realizing that her hunter was no longer following, Marguerite turned. A cannibal, completely covered in white mud, was sprawled atop Roxton. The savage had a fistful of Roxton's dark brown hair, forcing his head back., a long sharp blade was swinging toward his exposed neck. Without hesitation, she levelled her gun and shot the attacker. As he slumped off his former captive, Marguerite shot three more times for good measure and in so doing dropped two more cannibals; the others did not seem dissuaded from their hunt. They approached as the hunter jumped up seizing his rifle as he did, grabbed Marguerite, and ducked behind a tree.

"What now?" She queried. She handed him his broad brimmed hat which she'd retrieved.

He didn't answer. He leaned back against the tree, drew his twin pistols and, taking a deep breath, turned to face the advancing cannibals. His pistols spoke, and more of the mud covered men fell dead.

Roxton ducked back beside Marguerite who looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"We run," he said. All weariness forgotten, they plunged forward.


	2. Chapter 2

Lord John Roxton and Marguerite Krux had been running non-stop not knowing if any of the cannibal hunting party still pursued them and not daring to take the time to look. They had stumbled upon a river and followed along its banks for some time. Now, fatigue had set in and their headlong dash was becoming a slow motion lope.

The tall hunter stopped and bent at the waist struggling to catch his breath. His beautiful companion plopped down near his feet and peered warily at the jungle behind them.

"If they were still following, they would have attacked by now," Roxton assured her.

"That's encouraging," She grumbled. "Maybe they found easier game, like a herd of hungry raptors."

Beginning to breathe more easily, he chuckled and responded, "bound to have." Roxton straightened up and rolled his broad shoulders. Hazel eyes sparkling, he reached out to help her up, "ready to find that campsite?"

Marguerite took his hand but her grey-green eyes were focused beyond her handsome hunter. "I think we're already here," she said quietly as she absently brushed off her white skirt.

He turned, following her gaze.

Only a few yards from where the explorers stood, was the object of their search. The river had claimed one stanchion of the imposing stone and the other was on the rocky riverbank. Her hand still enclosed in his, they approached the artifact.

The jungle had nearly reclaimed the stone in the short time that had passed since Malone had been there and torn away the vines. Vines, moss, water and years had taken their toll but to a great extent, the glyphs were still legible. Marguerite reached out to one of the carvings, tracing it with her finger without touching it. "I've never seen writing like this before," she said with a touch of awe.

"What does it say?" Roxton asked not for a moment doubting her ability to read it.

She continued to stare at the stone and then turned to her hunter with a smile, "for starters, Malone was wrong. This doesn't mean 'doorway' so much as a sealed door. It is not directions off the plateau; it's more a warning than anything else."

"Warning about what?"

"Quite a lot of it is worn away, but it reads, 'something, something _sacred plateau, more smudging beginning and end. Evil will be judged and blotted out. The entry will be sealed. Woe to any who unlock this door.'_"

"What door?"

"It doesn't say," she replied as she waded around the stone to examine the far side. The flowing water only reached the ankles of her black boots, but the rocks were slippery and she reached out a hand to the moss covered stone to steady herself. She felt an electric tingle as she did so. "I think I found another of Challenger's energy lines," she called to Roxton.

"Maybe we should have brought George along," he responded.

"Oh, yes," she drawled, "that would have made this trip much more intimate."

The English lord walked around the dry side of the stone, "you know I prefer having you all to myself."

She smiled and declined to answer; instead, she indicated the stone. This side was completely covered in the strange glyphs. "It's a story; probably a parable. A 'wages of sin' type of thing."

"Well, what does it say?" he queried with genuine interest.

The dark haired adventuress removed her rucksack and dug into it for a cloth. She found a wash rag and started dabbing lightly at the stone. "I need to remove some of these leaves and moss…"

Roxton took a handful of the vines and ripped them away. As he continued his task, she worked on the moss.

The light was waning quickly. "I'd best start a fire," the tall hunter said, "I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

"Would you like some help?" she asked, straightening from her labours on the stone.

"Your smile is help enough," he grinned in reply.

She fought the urge to hug the gorgeous man returning instead to her efforts at cleaning the stone enough to read it. As she worked, she could hear Roxton busily building a fire ring and humming all the while. "It starts '_and great evil walked the plateau causing all manner of depravity. When time was new and sin was not, man was innocent. But man fell and wickedness was let loose on the world. Her name is Aglaopes. But for the intercession, there would have been no end to the destruction.' _Quite the bedtime story."

"It's an old story repeated in almost any culture you can name," he called back. "She must have been the local boogyman."

Marguerite looked sourly at the stone, "but it goes on to describe the horrors this Aglaopes committed. She was not someone I'd want to share the plateau with."

"You don't have to," Roxton said soothingly, "she's been banished; and it's not like she really existed. It is just a story."

"No, John," she countered, "I get the feeling it is much more. It all ends with '_And all the angels and warriors wrestled night and day until Aglaopes was plunged into eternal night and the door was sealed forever.'_ Why post a warning if she no longer exists?" She waited but there was no answer to her query. "John?" She looked around the stone to check on the hunter.

He was in the midst of his own wrestling match. Three cannibals, the last of the hunting party, had not given up as the explorers had hoped, but had caught up to them. Roxton had been gathering firewood when the mud covered men had set upon him. He was swinging a good sized stick at them and getting in some robust hits. One was lying on the ground, his face a bloody mess. The other two were grappling with the hunter; their blow pipes were nowhere in evidence.

"No," Marguerite yelled. She pulled out her pistol but the shot was impossible. She couldn't take the chance of shooting Roxton. She put her gun back in its holster.

The closer cannibal turned to her. He was holding a polished stone knife. There was blood on the blade and down his arm. She could see now the blood on Roxton's chest. The left leg of his off-white breeches was now tinted red. The heiress stood transfixed. She couldn't run and leave Roxton to his fate and there was still no way to shoot either savage without endangering her hunter.

Roxton took hold of the forearms of the cannibal who had him by the throat and hurled him to the ground. The other mud covered man bolted for Marguerite. His knife flashed briefly in the dying light. She had no time to reach for her pistol. As the savage charged, he slipped on the mossy rocks and barreled into Marguerite. She was knocked against the stone. She fell between the buttresses unconscious.

Raking his dark brown hair into some semblance of order, Roxton checked on the two cannibals he'd put down. They were both past worrying about. He grabbed up his hat and looked around for Marguerite. She lay unmoving between the stanchions, half in and half out of the river. The last cannibal was hovering over her, knife held close to her heart. Roxton didn't hesitate; he pulled one of his pistols and shot the savage. The lifeless body slipped into the river and began a slow journey downstream.

Gently, Roxton lifted his Marguerite and, moving away from the rocky riverbank, laid her on the blankets he'd set out earlier. She moaned quietly as he checked for injuries. Aside from a bump on her head, she seemed alright.

Darkness had descended completely. Roxton left his lady long enough to finish building the fire. His clothes were encrusted with blood and uncomfortable, but most of the blood belonged to the deceased cannibals, so he ignored it and wrapped the still unconscious beauty in blankets. Then he cradled her in his arms and waited for her to awaken.


	3. Chapter 3

Professor George Challenger clapped his hand on Lord Roxton's shoulder. "You need sleep, John," he said gently. "I'll stay with her."

When the younger man started to protest, Challenger quickly added, "Don't worry; when she wakes, I'll come get you."

Roxton didn't move. He continued to rub his thumb over the small, white hand he was holding. "Why doesn't she wake up?"

This was the fourth day since their fight with the cannibals. He had tried everything he could think of but had been unable to awaken her the morning after she'd been knocked unconscious, so he'd left all nonessentials and gathered her up. He carried her night and day, stopping to rest only when absolutely necessary and then continuing again as soon as he was able. He hadn't eaten in all that time, but he did on occasion pause to slake his thirst and force what water he could into Marguerite. She'd swallowed, which he'd taken as a good sign, but her eyelids never so much as fluttered. His only plan had been to get her back to the tree house, trusting that Challenger would be able to revive her.

When he'd finally arrived back at their jungle home, back aching and near complete exhaustion, Challenger had immediately taken charge. As of yet, the professor had been unable to find any reason for her to have not regained consciousness.

Roxton stared down at his beloved's beautiful face, "I can't lose her, George."

"She'll wake when she is ready," the red headed man assured him, "Right now, you need rest. I don't know how you've stayed awake this long. It's beyond reason." Before Roxton could object further, Challenger chided, "She needs you strong, John. You are no good to her or anyone in your current condition. Get some sleep. I promise to let you know if there is any change. Go."

"If she wakes…"

"I'll come get you immediately," Challenger hoped that he was right and Marguerite wasn't injured in some way he was unable to detect.

With great reluctance, Roxton placed her hand on the coverlet. He squeezed it lightly before he rose and walked to the doorway. He turned back and gazed again at the small brunette who was at once his bane and his salvation. It was a physical ache to see her so inanimate. Heart heavy, he went to his own bed. He had no intention of sleeping, only resting, ready for Challenger's call so that he could be present when she awoke; but no sooner had he collapsed upon the mattress than he was fast asleep.

With Roxton finally getting the rest he so desperately needed, the professor could now turn his full focus to Marguerite. He checked her pulse again: strong and steady. Her body seemed in excellent condition. "Her body, yes," Challenger pondered and then added aloud to the sleeping beauty, "but what about your mind?" He sat in the chair so recently and grudgingly vacated by Roxton. Already the professor was contemplating how best to measure her brain activity. In his mind, he had half-built a machine for checking and possibly stimulating brain waves.

So engrossed was he in his plans, that it wasn't until Malone lightly shook Challenger's forearm and said his name for the third time that the professor became aware of the young blonde man's presence.

"Malone?" Challenger sat up straighter in his chair, cleared his throat and explained, "I was just running through some calculations."

The writer smiled tolerantly, "I came to get you and Roxton for dinner." Ned Malone glanced around the room.

Before he could enquire of Roxton's whereabouts, Challenger offered, "Roxton's in bed; sleeping, I hope."

Malone shook his head in disbelief, "However did you manage that? I haven't been able to blast him from that chair."

"It wasn't easy," the red haired man agreed. "I had to promise that I would not leave Marguerite alone and to wake him immediately if she came 'round but even so…" his voice trailed off. He needed to use his incredible intelligence and figure out how to bring Marguerite back to herself. Hopefully her mind was undamaged. If he couldn't solve this dilemma, he could very well end up losing two friends.

"Why don't you let me sit with her while you go have dinner?" Malone suggested.

"On, no, you go eat," he replied and then upon further thought, he added, "but I will take you up on it when you've finished. I really need to get to my laboratory."

The reporter nodded, "On the condition that you eat first."

Challenger agreed saying, "I will take it with me."

As the younger man left the room, Challenger again turned his thoughts to the machine he intended to begin building the instant he reached his lab. His gaze returned to Marguerite and he was startled to find her grey-green eyes looking back at him.

The professor nearly tipped his chair over, so great was his hast to reach the newly awakened adventuress.

Marguerite's mouth moved but no sound escaped. She tried a second time with the same result. Frustration flashed across her face. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard twice. She then met Challenger's gaze and swallowed twice more before managing to say in a dry, scratchy voice, "I thirst."

Just two words, but they thrilled the red headed scientist. He grabbed Roxton's glass from the dresser. It was still nearly full. He gently helped Marguerite sit and brought the glass to her lips.

She slowly, steadily drank until the glass was drained. As Challenger took the empty glass, he thought for a moment that she was going to lick the rim, but then she sat up straight and with determination twisted around to put her feet on the floor. Only then did she nod at the professor and croak, "Thank you."

Challenger felt her pulse which was steady as before. He then lit the candle which sat on her dresser and used it to check her pupils. They dilated and contracted normally. He was encouraged by her recovery and asked, "Are you hungry?" Before she could even attempt to answer, he continued, "Of course you're hungry. You would have to be after days of… I'll just have Finn bring you a plate."

He stood and headed to the door.

Marguerite stopped him by calling out, "Don't." Her voice was stronger, but it still cracked. He turned back to her as she continued in her scratchy voice, "don't, please, he doesn't need to bother. I'd rather go; I'd like to get out of this room."

"Of course you would," the professor said placatingly, "But you really should rest."

A fleeting look of irritation flashed across her face and she swallowed hard before managing to say in a wispy voice, "That is all I've been doing. I'd like some fresh air," she smiled and added, "please."

Challenger gave in and nodded. He grabbed her silk dressing gown and draped it around her shoulders. "Careful now," he said as he helped her stand. She wobbled slightly but then stood solidly. Keeping a hand on her elbow, he walked with her to the stairs where he suddenly stopped short muttering, "Roxton."

Wondering at his sudden stop, Marguerite asked, "What?"

Challenger turned to her and explained, "Roxton's been with you every moment since the two of you made it back. In point of fact, I practically had to wrestle him to get him to rest. He would never have left except that I promised to stay with you." Candidly, he added, "I think he blames himself for what happened to you."

"He was there?"

"You don't remember?"

A look of utter frustration crossed her face and she shook her head.

"That's understandable. You've been through quite a bit. I am sure that your memory will all come back with time. But, I did promise Roxton that I'd get him when you…"

"No," she interrupted sharply. More gently she added, "he needs to sleep; you said it yourself. Me, all I've done is sleep while he…" she lapsed into silence, her hoarse voice had become little more than a squeak at the end.

Not wanting to further upset her, Challenger agreed, "Okay, we'll let him sleep a little longer." Knowing that Roxton did indeed need the rest didn't make him feel any less that he was breaking his word, but acquiescing to Marguerite seemed the most logical choice. Her recovery was too recent and possibly fragile to chance upsetting her. "Shall we?" he said, again taking her elbow and accompanying her to the tree house's great room.


	4. Chapter 4

Steam carrying the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted lazily from the cup which Ned set in front of Marguerite. She leaned over, letting the scent flow into her before lifting the cup in both hands. Bringing the white cup to her lips, she blew across the hot, dark liquid and then took a tentative sip. Her expression quickly changed to one of revulsion. She hastily pulled the cup away from her mouth and put it down none too gently. As she did, a little liquid spilt onto the wooden table.

Ned, who had just taken his seat at the foot of the table, jumped half out of his chair as he asked, "Did it burn you?"

The heiress appeared completely horrified as she turned to him asking, "What is that noxious brew? Are you trying to poison me?"

"It's coffee," Malone replied defensively. "I don't know, maybe I made it too strong or the beans are bad or..." he trailed off with a shrug.

Marguerite looked around at Challenger and the two blonde women. They all appeared shocked at her outburst. She made an attempt to relax and then smiled placatingly. She turned to Malone and started, "Finn..."

"Don't look at me," the girl from the future scoffed, "I don't drink that yucky goo."

Turning then to Finn, Marguerite continued, "I was just going to ask if you would pass the juice." She indicated the pitcher which was sitting directly in front of Malone, but within easy reach for Finn. "I need to wash out the bitter taste."

Veronica leaned across the table and almost growled, "That was completely uncalled for. Ned made that coffee specifically for you, you ungrateful, self-centered…."

"Veronica," Malone interrupted, "it's alright. It's only coffee."

"But, Ned…" She sighed heavily, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.

While Finn picked up the pitcher and shoved it toward Marguerite, the blonde reporter took a tentative sip of the coffee. His face was a mask of confusion, "I don't understand," he began, "it tastes fine..."

Challenger placed his hand on Malone's forearm and shook his head.

Malone continued anyway, "but there is nothing wrong with..."

"Not now, Malone," Challenger said quietly. Neither Malone nor Veronica seemed happy to drop the subject, so the professor explained, "When someone experiences a trauma, there are changes in the electrical flow of the brain. Those changes can cause the victim to react differently to stimuli. Emotional change is the most common, but taste can be effected as well."

The reporter added, "So, even though the coffee is the same as always..."

"Marguerite's perception of it has changed," Challenger finished.

Veronica look unconvinced. Before she could comment further, Challenger changed the subject.

"Marguerite," the scientist began, "We've heard very little of your excursion from Roxton aside from your being set upon by cannibals. Did you find Malone's stone?"

The brunette adventuress put down her glass and lightly dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "The stone," She considered, looking around at the expectant faces before answering, "Yes, we found the stone and it was a complete waste of time not to mention nearly getting us both killed. Although," she paused, "it was an interesting story."

"What do you mean, a story?" Malone queried. He gave her no chance to answer before he asked, "What about the passage? Does it lead off the plateau?"

Looking him straight in the eyes with a bemused smile, she said, "There is no passage, neither leading off this plateau nor anywhere else. You misread it. The stone tells a story, that's all." She shrugged her shoulders and picked up the platter of sliced fruit, slipping a few small pieces onto the empty plate in front of her.

The others watched while Marguerite calmly picked up a slice of mango and popped it into her mouth. She took her time chewing it, rolling it across her tongue before finally swallowing. She looked around at the varied expressions worn by her companions: Curiosity, disappointment, relief...

"I was so sure," Ned mumbled. He shook his head and sighed deeply. "A story," he repeated half questioningly.

Marguerite nodded, "nothing more."

The young reporter picked up his mug and took another swig of his coffee. As he put the mug down, he mused, "It must have been some story. There was a lot of time and effort put into erecting and carving that stone."

"I'm sure we would all be interested in hearing the story; That is, if you feel up to it," Professor Challenger interjected.

The beautiful adventuress sat straighter and cleared her throat as if she were preparing to regale them with her tale. She smiled and lifted her plate. "I would be only to happy to share the tale with you if only someone will carve me a piece of that delicious smelling meat."


End file.
